Beamish was a birthday present. We had found out in January that my golden retriever/German shepherd mix Guinness was dying of melanoma. I had the privilege of adopting Guinness my last year of college. When he got cancer the first time I drove him 90 minutes away every 3 weeks for his chemotherapy treatments. He lay on the floor with me in my kitchen the night I was told I no longer had a job. This time due to the aggressive nature of the cancer and his age there would be no treatment. So husband got me a white English bulldog in preparation for losing my beloved mutt.
My February birthday came and two weeks later we had to put Guinness to sleep. The same week I turned in my resignation having accepted a job at another office. They didn’t want me to work out a notice and the new job didn’t want me to start early. So for two weeks I was home with a puppy having lost one of my best friends.
I coddled him to death. Yes, I take full responsibility. He is the way he is because of that formative period where I wouldn’t let him leave my side.
When Beamish wants on the bed he just goes and stands there. He puts his front paws up and waits knowing someone will give him a boost. If we don’t within 10 seconds whining commences. If we want private sexy time he sits outside the door crying and howling because he is denied access to me. The cat taught him how much fun it is to grab a sheet of toilet paper and to pull it through the house. When you ask him why he looks away. He does that really well the looking away thing. He pretends to be deaf or like he doesn’t understand English. The few times he has tried to stick his head out the car window he managed to push the button and got his head stuck.
He weighs 20 pounds less than his mutt brother Gromit but he takes up more space on the bed. When I take a bath or a shower he lays on the bath mat waiting for me. If I take too long he begins to whine. When I am writing in my favorite chair he tries to crawl into my lap. I wrote my second novel with a dog lying on my legs and my laptop balanced on his back.
With all his neurosis he has one other character trait that makes him unique. Husband calls him Retardo Montalban. (I am aware this is politically incorrect) Yes like Ricardo Montalban from ‘Fantasy Island’ because he is all white plus he is “special”. I have seen him clothesline him self on the garden edging. He regularly stretches and falls off the bed in the process. We have replaced the screen three times because he doesn’t “see” it. This happens because he is so excited he pooped his enthusiasm can’t be contained and he runs at breakneck speed, for a bulldog, into the house bouncing off the screen thus tearing it.
Most days I wonder if he is really that special or coddled or just stubborn as hell.